The aesthetics of decay . . .

The fall colors have peaked. Brown crackling leaves line the gutters and the streets mixed with gold. What were lush and wildly out of control gardens with tendrils and dripping flowers so large they might have been cast in a sci-fi movie where ordinary objects become super-sized, have been stripped with their soil turned over. The picture above shows the remnants of some oversized leaves I saw along Memorial Drive this morning as I made my way on foot back to Boston. Yes, the tow truck and more car problems got me over to that side of the river early this morning, but the walk back in bright sunshine distracted me from the parts of my life that weren't working, transporting me instead into an extended reprieve into nature and the miracle of my breath going in and out. In Italian, inhale is ispirare—so close to the word inspiration.